As per Michael’s suggestion, I was reading William Faulkner’s speech from after his acceptance of the Nobel prize for literature, and I thought to myself a) wow, I really like this dude and b) I feel like I should quote him on my blog. But, then I was deciding which part to quote, and I just didn’t want to cut most of it. So, for you to appreciate, skim, ignore, or d) all of the above (yay AP mode).
I feel that this award was not made to me as a man, but to my work – a life’s work in the agony and sweat of the human spirit, not for glory and least of all for profit, but to create out of the materials of the human spirit something which did not exist before. So this award is only mine in trust. It will not be difficult to find a dedication for the money part of it commensurate with the purpose and significance of its origin. But I would like to do the same with the acclaim too, by using this moment as a pinnacle from which I might be listened to by the young men and women already dedicated to the same anguish and travail, among whom is already that one who will some day stand here where I am standing.
Our tragedy today is a general and universal physical fear so long sustained by now that we can even bear it. There are no longer problems of the spirit. There is only the question: When will I be blown up? Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good writing because only that is worth writing about, worth the agony and the sweat.
He must learn them again. He must teach himself that the basest of all things is to be afraid; and, teaching himself that, forget it forever, leaving no room in his workshop for anything but the old verities and truths of the heart, the old universal truths lacking which any story is ephemeral and doomed – love and honor and pity and pride and compassion and sacrifice. Until he does so, he labors under a curse. He writes not of love but of lust, of defeats in which nobody loses anything of value, of victories without hope and, worst of all, without pity or compassion. His griefs grieve on no universal bones, leaving no scars. He writes not of the heart but of the glands.
Until he relearns these things, he will write as though he stood among and watched the end of man. I decline to accept the end of man. It is easy enough to say that man is immortal simply because he will endure: that when the last dingdong of doom has clanged and faded from the last worthless rock hanging tideless in the last red and dying evening, that even then there will still be one more sound: that of his puny inexhaustible voice, still talking. I refuse to accept this. I believe that man will not merely endure: he will prevail. He is immortal, not because he alone among creatures has an inexhaustible voice, but because he has a soul, a spirit capable of compassion and sacrifice and endurance. The poet’s, the writer’s, duty is to write about these things. It is his privilege to help man endure by lifting his heart, by reminding him of the courage and honor and hope and pride and compassion and pity and sacrifice which have been the glory of his past. The poet’s voice need not merely be the record of man, it can be one of the props, the pillars to help him endure and prevail.
That speech he gave was amazing. Just reading it is incredible. Oh, William Faulkner. I have so much more respect for him now.
@Cathy – And just what was your opinion of him previously? Faulkner’s work is titanic, and to disrespect it speaks of a screaming ignorance that will not be quieted by reason.
Of course, this doesn’t apply if your comment was just poorly executed sarcasm.
John, please do not comment here again until you have learned not to talk “@” people, start your sentences with conjunctions, assume that your opinions are fact and removed the giant stick from your ass.
Thank You.
Hillary
Oh hillarychild. Commenting on a weblog decrying the use of “@” for directed comments is fraught with lip-smacking irony. The stature of Faulkner’s work is not a matter of opinion, and if you don’t believe me, maybe you should consult the Nobel Prize committee that Faulkner addressed in the acceptance speech cited above (just a little more irony; again, my compliments). The issue of whether you like Faulkner is a matter of opinion, but if you go around talking smack about Nobel laureates, then your opinions are probably worth about as much as the stick up my ass; due respect should be given.
And I’m truly repentant for not meeting your grammatical standards for blog comments. It’s quite poignant for me to think of such an inflexible brain, already beset with the vexatious vagaries of spontaneous speech (“I’m doing ‘well’, not ‘good’!” Oh, the ulcers!), wandering unprotected through the wild, hot Internet, hopelessly beleaguered by odious wags and second-language learners who simply will not comply. And when the brain lashes out in heaven-sent indignation, further tragedy ensues when it is unable to summon its cherished grammatical precision in the hour of dire need! Perhaps the following would have been more appropriate:
“… until you have learned not to talk “@” people, start your sentences with conjunctions, or assume that your opinions are fact, and have removed the giant stick from your ass.”
Else, what are we to do? Are we to assume that I will have “learned not to … removed the giant stick”? Or that “[I] have … start my sentences with conjunctions” and should never comment again? Or that one should not comment “until you … assume that your opinions are fact”? Oddly, no matter how we parse it, the correction comes out incorrect! The irony thickens!
Oh, and as a final tip for the aspiring carping schoolmarm, it’s probably ill advised to close your bilious denunciations with a poorly capitalized “Thank You.” Irony overload!
Unless, of course, hillarychild meant to convey respect, which I suppose should have been made obvious by that bit about the giant stick and my ass.
Now, it’s time to close with a little topical humor. As our fine Supreme Leader Obama might have said following his hour of nationwide triumph:
“Nice try, Hillary. Better luck next time.”
Faulkner doesn’t need unfortunately verbose aspiring grammarians to defend or refute his merit as an author; his writing should speak for itself.
J,
Ah, yes, you are right, so right. We should never discuss important works of art because they are beyond us. The works of Faulkner should be treasured in silence and sweet isolation.
Wait a minute, though. If you are indeed correct, if in fact his writing should speak for itself, then why are you speaking about it at all? It turns out that talking about art is an essential part of what keeps art alive. Writing does not speak for itself. As great as Faulkner’s work is, if we were to stop talking, writing, screaming about it, it would surely fade. Writing largely celebrates communication, and hence should not speak for itself.
I applaud Shaunacy for posting this, and for bringing a little more Faulkner into our lives.
And if you’re looking for the unfortunately aspiring grammarian, I think it’s hillarychild you’re after. I’ll take the verbosity.
Oh my. My brevity mistaken for sarcasm once again. For the record, I find Faulkner to be an astounding writer.
John, don’t you have something more productive to do than argue the merits of Faulkner on a personal blog with several teenagers? Even more so, with teenagers who obviously respect his work but evidently lack the mental capacity you seem to possess to fully appreciate said work? But I digress. You will now pick at my words and find fault in every last syllable. Alas.
Cathy,
No, I really don’t have anything more productive to do. Sorry.
Now wait a second; if I’m not mistaken, didn’t you just insult the mental capacity of the other commenters here? Interesting digression.
Incidentally, my initial remark was directed “@” you; it was the (apparent) teenager that pounced with the always-endearing hypocritical grammatical correction.
Anyway. I actually thought you had some pretty nice syllables this time around, especially up front (the back-to-back “my” was one for the books). There. Now you have my qualified approval. Rest easy.
John,
It amuses me to think of how you found this blog. Surely, the common person would simply say, “Oh, he was looking up William Faulkner on Google.” I, on the other hand, have my suspicions.
I cannot say that you were or were not looking for some Faulkner-Shakespeare porn, but it is quite plausible and possible. I also cannot point fingers and scream, “Pedophile!” at the top of my lungs. Technically I can, but pointing and yelling at a computer screen is about as productive as commenting on the blog of a teenager, isn’t it?
For all I know, you have found the background information of this “Shaunacy” gal and are tracking her down to rape her. Or even more possible, for the first reply was directed at the obviously incompetent Cathy, you were in search for a more simple minded prey for whom to rape and spread your sperm.
I will never know what you were looking for on Google or what you were looking for in commenting on this blog. I can, however, state that it is somewhat rude to comment on a personal blog that is not connected with you.
Before you caps lock scream another response of how you have defeated me, I will say that it is indeed a public blog and that the concept of private public blogs is completely paradoxical and idiotic. Also, no offense to Shaunacy, this blog should be made private to avoid this sort of “Internet abuse” that seems to bother us all ever so much.
Of course, you may not have known that this blog has private ramblings of the struggle of growing up. I cannot prove that you didn’t look at the rest of the posts on this blog. For all we know, this is the only thing you’ve read on Shaunacy’s blog.
However, while I am being hypocritical by responding myself, this entire comment conversation is stupid. I may state that Cathy’s comment was completely relevant and was, out of all these posts (including my own), the only one that should exist.
But, you see, by saying this, I am obviously defending a fellow teenager while I was on my own quest for Faulkner-Shakespeare porn. That is why I will state that your question directed to Cathy relevant to the Faulkner-ness of this blog post. However, while I have no right to make any rules of the Internet (for those are created by the 4chan geniuses), I must state that the rest of your comment was rude, disrespectful, and completely pointless.
You should not exist.
-Phillip
Oh my good golly goodness! I seem to have made an error! Let me get this one for you John!
Phillip! Bad, bad boy! You incompetent and should not exist in this world!
I cannot believe that you made that simple error.
“That is why I will state that your question directed to Cathy IS ALSO relevant to the Faulkner-ness of this blog post.”
I can’t believe you! You should be crucified!
Did I do a good job John?
Nope. You incompetent.
Oh damn! I should slit my wrists now.
Phillip,
Wow, you really do sound amused. I have to hand it to you, that was a first-class incoherent meltdown. This opportunity to commit multiple counts of ass-bursting hypocrisy must have been too juicy to pass up. Never leave to the “common person,” and certainly not the “obviously incompetent Cathy,” that which only Phillip the Suspicious can handle. And oh, how he handled it! Such statements, if I may state! (The 4chan name-drop was the highlight, by the way, but “You should not exist.” was a close second.)
I sure hope you know “this “Shaunacy” gal,” otherwise this just got a whole lot more pathetic, wouldn’t you state?
And you totally screamed “Pedophile!” at the computer. While pointing.
Way to take the high road.
Yours truly,
Captain High Road
Captain John High Road,
Lawls. I did in fact scream “Pedophile!” at my computer (of course I was pointing), but I at least acknowledged how idiotic it looked.
And while I agree with your argument regarding how pathetic I am to be posting myself, I offer this rebuttal. It is the summer before Freshman year of college. We have no lives. We will have no lives until we graduate and find our careers. Sure, we could be out partying, drinking beer, smoking pot, or doing something that make us the super popular kids that everyone strives to be, but we don’t. Mostly because we don’t want to disappoint you, mi amor. But really, we don’t see the point in wasting our lives/time.
Oh the irony/hypocrisy that strikes again! For what am I doing here now? I graduate in less than 12 hours and I’ve woken up simply to argue with you about who is most pathetic, while obviously making myself and my peers seem even more so.
However (and the ironic hypocrisy applies even more with this statement), do you not realize that the person who posts last is obviously the most like a child? And yes, you will argue that as people entering college, we should be more mature and “man up” by not commenting. And I promise you, we will stop at some point. I just hope you realize that you, the 40 year old man who lives in his mother’s attic and masturbates with his tears to Faulkner-Shakespeare porn every morning, should probably grow up as well and find a more productive use of time.
Have you a job? Or is it a career? We can all tell that you are highly educated and obviously our senior. It’s just too bad that your brain power is wasted on a blog. Even more so, the blog of a teenager.
Anyway, I’m going to do something productive now. I truly cannot wait to read how I am a failure-tastic hypocrite. Even if I have stated many times that I laugh at the hypocrisy of the whole situation.
-”Phillip the Suspicious”
Phillip, I’m reminded of that one episode of the Daily Show (and, John, while this perinthetical aside will likely do nothing but egg you on, I implore you to not comment on what programs I choose to spend my free time watching), when John Stewert claims to be selling snake oil and calling it snake oil, while Cramer is selling snake oil and claiming it is a miracle tonic.
I don’t remember why. I just am.